Faith
by Elphaba-Rose
Summary: They are 26 years old, and alone. They are no longer a family. Leonardo must accept his fate...


1A.N: Attack of the plot bunnies! Dark and angsty one shot coming right up! Did you really expect anything different?

Disclaimer: Sadly, I did not receive any papers indicating I own any Ninja Turtles over Christmas. Sorry to disappoint. It shall however remain one of my ultimate life goals. But until then, I don't own, so don't sue. Thanks.

Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles

Faith

I've lived alone for seven years now. I don't know how I manage to hang on to each day. I've lost all sense of time. It's just the same routine day in, day out. I have no life, that went down the drain the moment I was born. You don't miss what you never had. I don't know whether that should give me comfort or not.

I hate the emptiness. No one yells at the television because there's no television to yell at. No one works devotedly in their lab, because there is no lab to work in. No one scolds the cat for peeing on the floor, because there is no cat to scold. It's just me.

Just me. Leonardo.

My day starts like this. I rise at six thirty am, bang on the dot, no exceptions no matter what. I shower, brush my teeth and get dressed. And then I train. Sometimes I eat, sometimes I don't. But I train until the night grows old. I might read a book or meditate in between. But it's not likely anymore. All I know is my swords, my beloved katana.

That's what I do every single day in this cursed life. If I'm lucky, I'll get a phone call. If it's Christmas or our birthday, then it's my favourite day of the year, because I'm not alone.

I live with my fear day by day and I can't escape it. I have no one to pick me up when I fall down. And I fall down a lot. I hurt myself when I fall and it takes a long time to get to my feet. I don't think I ever truly will, it's so difficult. It makes me so tired sometimes, so tired I want to sleep forever and ever and ever.

It's all his fault. He was supposed to be my father, he was supposed to love me, he was supposed to take care of me. I've never been looked after. He left us. Just when we needed him most, he left us. He gave in, after all the times he told me to keep trying even if it tore me to pieces. He didn't listen to his own advice. If only he had I wouldn't be alone.

I'd have to live in his hell, but at least I wouldn't be on my own. They would be with me. They're alone too, but they do not seem to mind. I daren't ask them to stay with me, they won't want to. They wouldn't want to look after me.

I'm the big brother. I should look after them. But when he left, I found they could look after themselves. They were adults, independent, mature, every one of them. They didn't need me anymore, I needed them. But they left me too, one by one, off into the unknown.

It was Raphael first, just like I knew it would be. He was always the one to rebel, to prove he could do his own thing. When he announced he'd found a place of his own, it broke my heart. It was the beginning of a long, painful end. There was nothing I could do, I had to let him go. He would only have fought and gone anyway. There were regular phone calls and visits at first, but slowly they dwindled into a nothingness and Raphael lost himself in a world of drink, drugs and rock and roll.

It was Donatello next. He said he needed more space for his inventions and experiments. I had hoped he would stay, he was always so compassionate, so caring. But I always knew I would lose him to the science he loved so much. It was something I couldn't control when he upped and left also. It took him days to gather up his treasures, every little item belonging to science he adored, they had to go with him. Just like Raphael, there were regular phone calls and visits, but soon enough, they too dwindled into a nothingness and Donatello lost himself in a world of physics, chemistry and biology.

It was Michelangelo last. I had thought I would never lose him. He was so much like a child at times, dependent, hyperactive, innocent, even cheeky. He'd always been the baby of the family, even though it's hard to determine who is the youngest and oldest. I could be the baby for all we know. But after our father left us, he changed. He was no longer childish and pure. He grew up. He lost that charm and sense of humour. He became serious and tainted by adulthood. He took every comic, DVD, video game he owned when he left. I allowed him to take the television. He left me nothing to remember him by. He, like our brothers, visited and phoned, but that again dwindled into a nothingness and Michelangelo lost himself in a world of superheros, drama and virtual realities.

The lair is empty now. I enter the kitchen, and there's just the bare essentials. The refrigerator and cupboards hardly ever got stocked. The stove has developed a fine layer of dust. It's not a case of not wanting to cook, but more a case of not being able to. Moving on to the bathroom, there's only one toothbrush, not five. The bath is dirty, only the shower gets used. In father's bedroom, everything remains untouched, even the Nag Champa incense I was about to light when it happened. His sheets are still tossed aside, unmade, unwashed. In the living room, there is a blank space where the television used to be. Michelangelo's Battle Nexus trophy is no longer on the mantlepiece. The sofa and chairs needed a good clean, the hearth a good dusting. The dojo is more or less bare. Raphael took the display of sais and the punchbag. Donatello took the rack of bostaffs. Michelangelo took the shelf of nunchakus. All that remains are the katana and the shuriken.

Their rooms are just rooms. There's nothing in them, absolutely nothing. No posters belonging to Raphael, no test tubes belonging to Donatello, no comics belonging to Michelangelo. They took it all with them and left me with nothing but a casket of memories. I just wanted little things, a leaf of Donatello's notes he didn't need anymore, one of Michelangelo's silly scribbles, one of Raphael's old c.ds. That way, I wouldn't be truly alone, I would have some real evidence of my brothers' to worship.

Photographs are just images, they aren't special. Sure they may capture what they look like, but not who they were. I threw them all out. I despise photos. They're nothing like the real thing. I'd rather have nothing at all than soulless pictures. I didn't even manage to hide away any of their bandanas. Now they would have been prizes worth praising. If only I had one now, to breathe in their scent, to hold what made them who they were.

I also miss April and Casey Jones, our best friends. They moved away six years ago to Los Angeles. April didn't want to leave but Casey had been offered a job they really could not refuse. So they left us too. They have a five year older daughter we have never met. All we know his her name. Faith, Faith Jones. Such a beautiful name. It's a shame there isn't any left in the world, especially from this fading turtle clan.

I don't know why I drag myself through this world. Ever since we split up, life has no meaning. I stopped living the day he died and started to just exist. Seven lengthy, comfortless years. Why do I continue to put myself through all this? Because I still love them, even though they abandoned me and threw me to the darkness. They would not like to find me, possibly weeks or even months, from now, a rotting mess of suicide. I could not submit them to that.

And yet, I feel it growing inside me. I found the lump months ago. I haven't told them, that would just cause unnecessary hurt and despair and guilt. I can't do that to them. Besides, I know there will be no cure for me. Chemotherapy isn't available for mutant turtles like myself. I suffer it alone and hope this evil, merciless disease that is cancer takes me soon.

The sickness it brings me is unbearable sometimes. I can hardly drag myself out of bed, but I force myself to. I make myself get up and follow the daily routine without complaint. If I receive a call from one of them, I pretend everything is well, I pretend I eat and sleep well, I pretend I still patrol the streets without fail every night.

I loathe lying to them. But it's to protect them. I know how they would react. Michelangelo would break down and lose all hope in life. Donatello would strive day and night, fruitlessly attempting to find a cure. Raphael would try to protect us all, yet surrender himself. I can't do that to them. I'm the big brother, I will always take care of them, even if they don't need me any longer.

I admit I'm scared. Who wouldn't be when they're facing a killer disease in the eye? I'm afraid to go to sleep in case it is truly the end and I don't wake up the next day. I can never say goodbye, because that would mean telling them about my fate. I don't know how I know it's cancer, I just do. I think it was when I found the abscess under my arm all that time ago. I just knew from that moment on, I would be swallowed by a death hungry disease.

It's so unfair after everything I've done to help New York City. I'm not allowed to stick around and help anymore, because NYC doesn't need me either. It has it's vigilantes and PD to look after it now. They don't need some hopeless mutant hindering their progress. I know when it's time to step back into the shadows and accept my time is over.

I am a ninja after all.

I find myself craving my death. The pain becomes so unbearable sometimes, it takes all my strength to stop me from committing suicide. At least with suicide I'll save a scrap of dignity for my wounded soul. But to die by a cureless disease? It's harmful to your pride. And yet, it doesn't hurt as much when I think about which death my brothers would prefer. At least with cancer I won't end up a bloody mess or anything.

I've begun my letter as I don't know how much time I have left. Our father left us one, but mine is nothing like his. Whenever my writing becomes even remotely similar to his, I rip it up and start again. I'm not him, no matter how much Raphael said I seemed like it. His letter told us to stay true to ourselves, have honour, the usual rubbish. Mine tells them to stay together and not die alone like I did.

That is my worst fear, dying completely alone. And it seems that is what destiny has dealt me. So be it. I can face my fate. I won't like it, but I will accept it. Hopefully it will be a lesson to them and they will keep the brotherly bond going, because we are a family, even though they seem to have forgotten that lately.

I will look after them beyond the grave. I know I can never escape that responsibility he entrusted me with, and I never want to either. Because I love them, and if I don't look after them, no one will, and I can't have that. When I die, there will only be three of the Hamato clan left, and there will be no successors. We will fade out and vanish completely, unknown and forgotten.

I will miss them the most, my brothers. Mikey, I will miss the way you made the most horrific thing seem funny and how you always found the light in the darkest of places. Raph, I will miss your sarcasm and your blunt wit, and your way of expressing your feelings without words, be that through punches or brotherly actions. And Donny, I will miss your determination to finish every project, your loving nature, and even the way you made those stupid shots seem not so bad.

I know death will take me soon, I see it, big, black and looming over me like a fatal storm cloud. And I welcome it with open arms. The Reaper will deal his final blow soon and I will be grateful. I will be leaving hell and entering paradise. But it will not be true heaven until my brothers are with me. And I'm prepared to wait a million lifetimes complete with dying fathers, abandonment and cancer, if it means one day I shall be with them once more.

And we will be the family I know we are.

The End

A.N: Heh, didn't mean for it to be so short but I wanted to make it sharp and emotional, so it's easier to understand where Leo's coming from. Anyway, hope you enjoyed!


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